


Face

by skydork (klismaphilia)



Series: Town of Internal Monologue [3]
Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Searching for answers, desperate and distraught, doctor is a good person, he's pretty torn up mentally, italics cause fuck yeah italics, lip tearing, slight delusional state, why u no remember anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5047744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klismaphilia/pseuds/skydork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You remember little things- a voice, an airy laugh, a shout, a gunshot."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Face

**Author's Note:**

> finally another one of these, hallelujah i'm back on my game!

_You wake up._

__

_You wake up and everything is a blur- there’s some liquid spilled out across the floor and you can hear a godawful ringing in your ears. Screaming, singing, echoing through your mind loud enough to blow your eardrums out. You remember little things- a voice, an airy laugh, a shout, a gunshot. It’s not enough to piece together, but maybe you don’t even want to try._

__

_You can feel it, an odd sort of ache in your body that never seems to go away. It’s almost a burn in your skull, throbbing both so harsh and so delicate that you can’t force it out. You roll onto your side. You contemplate screaming, but you’re not sure who’d be around to hear you- nobody but the Doctor and she can’t take care of you forever._

__

_It takes awhile to remember how to move, too. Eventually you swing a leg over the side of the bed and let your bare foot touch down on hard wood, cold and slick beneath your too-pale feet. You look thin, at least in the legs, more than you had before- but that’s a side effect. The pills, the loss- you can’t eat. It makes you sick, looking at food and wondering if you’d eaten with somebody before, if you’d had a family, friends…_

__

_The liquid that was spilled is sticky under your feet. It’s familiar, smells like cough medicine- you don’t know why you remember that, a little thing, but you do. The smell is stamped into your psyche, something you can’t possibly suppress for long, and it’s almost painful._

__

_People are milling about outside, parents and children and grandparents and cousins… everyone and their goddamn brother. You pull your hand back, let the curtain fall away to recover the window with white fabric. You notice that you left a little red stain on one of the shades- are you bleeding? You run your fingers together, but you don’t notice anything aside from the normal- no new scars or flesh wounds._

__

_Your lip, though. It’s split. You wonder how long you’ve been chewing on it, because it feels raw and chapped, but even then you can’t stop. It’s a relief, to peel the skin off with your teeth and roll the little pieces over your tongue. Comforting. Sick, but comforting._

__

_You hear a voice calling from in another room- you know it has to be her. The Doctor. You should listen to her, because she’s all you have- but you don’t want to. You press fingers to your lips again. Blood dribbles down the pale skin in such a way it’s almost like finger paint. You think you liked fingerpainting; the thought of having something so familiar clinging to your skin is a nice one. You want to smile._

__

_There’s a shout from the hallway and you can hear a door closing and a sharp bit of laughter that echoes through the walls and resounds in your head. You think you can place it, maybe… you know you can…_

__

_You can’t._

__

_The Doctor is standing there. her arms around a short, average woman- she has sharp cheekbones, you note. Very nice, and long black hair. You wonder if you look alike. You like to think you do, because at least that will give you a purpose. But you don’t call out to them- no, you can’t, not now. You’re terrified of ruining the moment, of making it splinter and shatter like your own life did._

__

_You think you can feel glass in your hands. You wonder if the Doctor had to pull out the shards individually or if she just removed your hand and sewed on someone else’s. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, not really. Maybe they’re all lying to you. Maybe they think it’s_ funny _, that you’re stuck in here like a mental patient while they get to run around and play townsfolk all day. Fuck that- they don’t… they don’t know anything._

__

_This entire world, this entire town- they’re blinder than you. Because it’s one thing if_ you _don’t remember…_

_But they should remember everything._

**  
You’d kill to think like they do.**


End file.
